


Don't Ever Change Your Flavor

by hostagesfic



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Crossdressing, Domesticity, Feminization, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, M/M, Nipple Play, Pet Names, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:19:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostagesfic/pseuds/hostagesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is sitting at the foot of the bed, perched on the edge kicking his heels and fidgeting. He looks up from his lap when Danny comes in and Danny nods, approvingly, causing a blush and making Harry frown back down at the obvious bulge his prick makes in the sheer fabric of his panties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Ever Change Your Flavor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unevenfootsteps](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unevenfootsteps/gifts).



> Our half (originally bargained by S) of a trade with the lovely Lizz. Your move, punk. (We love you!) Title from Strawberry Bubblegum by Justin Timberlake.

Harry’s been waiting almost an hour when Danny comes in the door, shedding gloves and a beanie. He almost knocks Danny over in his haste to curl up against his chest, long arms wrapping around his damp jacket, bending to bury his head in Danny’s neck, the only bit of his skin that’s warm. 

“Hi, princess,” Danny says, laughing, even though his voice still sounds cold, throat closed off from the chilly winds outside. Harry knows that he forgot his bus pass today, had found it on the kitchen table when he got home, and also knows Danny probably didn’t bother to buy a new one. Which means he most likely walked the twelve blocks to his second job in the snow and the jacket Harry bought for him Christmas before last, already going thin around the cuffs and seams. 

Harry sighs and burrows closer, feeling Danny’s narrow back move under his hands as he steadies them in the doorway, kisses Harry’s ear. Even his lips are cold, but Harry has never turned down kisses from Danny, never will.

“Hi,” he says, belated with thinking, and leans back to frown at Danny. “I could’ve brought you your pass, you know.” 

“Walk’s good f’me,” Danny says lightly, and kisses the objection off Harry’s lips. He tastes like sleet. Harry shivers and clutches him a little tighter.

“You’re _frigid_ ,” he points out, trying to remain petulant, because he’s _right_.

Danny just smiles. “‘m sure you’ll find a way to warm me up, doll.”

Harry’s reheated the samosas he made the day before for dinner. Saturday and Sunday are their cooking days, and this weekend they’d stuck to family recipes. The cold weather that refreezes the city makes Harry think of Christmas, and Danny doesn’t object to an encore of holiday favorites. 

They’d eaten the curry from Saturday night for lunch on Sunday, and made samosas in the afternoon, enough for dinner and bagged lunches for work and now, again, for dinner. It’s easy, cooking for the two of them, when Harry has practice in cooking for an entire dorm of flatmates. 

They still have people over a lot; Louis and Zayn and Niall had come Saturday after dinner for the pudding Harry had slaved over and beers, hadn’t complained about the shitty rabbit ear reception their thrift store tv got for the game. Liam comes over when he can, but since he’s moved in with Danielle, across town, it’s harder. Danny knows that Harry and the other boys will meet him for lunch some days, but evenings are harder for Harry to get out, now. 

He’s studying more, has more exams this semester, and on the nights he doesn’t have papers to revise or study guides to review, he’d rather curl up in Danny’s lap on the sofa and play with the cat’s ears. 

It’s looking to be one of those nights.

Harry eschews the second place setting he’d put out, pulling Danny over to his chair at their table and folding up in his lap instead. Danny smiles at him but doesn’t say anything, doesn’t bother pulling the other plate across the table, either. He lets Harry eat off his own, fingerfuls of rice, and feeds him in between bites with his fork, nods at Harry approvingly when he makes eyes at the wine glass at Danny’s place. 

When they’re done, and Harry has pressed his nose into Danny’s neck, has his fingers tucked under Danny’s arm and against his hip, Danny kisses his hair. “S’good, Haz,” he says. “Always such a good little chef.” 

Harry nearly purrs, kisses Danny’s throat lingeringly before pulling back to look up at him. “Thank you,” he says, smiles brightly for a moment before it fades and he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, squirms a little. “Can we- could you-”

Danny brushes his fingers through the curls around Harry’s ears, raises his eyebrows encouragingly. “What is it, babe?”

“Please,” Harry breathes, eyelids dropping shut at Danny’s touch. “Please, please, been waiting for you.” 

Danny presses his thumb into the hinge of Harry’s jaw until his mouth slides open, pink tongue darting forward automatically. Leaning in, he kisses Harry gently, soft and wet, their tongues a smooth slide against one another. “Yeah,” he says, drawing back, voice already a little rough. “Go on, princess, put your slip on for me and wait in bed, I’ll clean this lot up.” 

Harry shudders, leaning forward for another kiss, and Danny obliges him for a moment before hauling him upright, smacking his little bum. “Don’t be naughty, love, go on.”

Harry trips over his feet twice on the way to their bedroom, and Danny can hear the chest of drawers being opened and rifled through- he’ll have to remind Harry to be careful with his lacy things, because he hasn’t ruined anything yet (not from just handling them, although he’s ruined plenty of others doing different things), but he just gets so excited. Danny’s picked each of his outfits so carefully that he’d hate to have to find new ones just because Harry couldn’t be patient getting them on.

Danny focuses on that as he takes his plate to the sink and rinses it, puts away the other setting Harry hadn’t touched. He wipes off the counter and refills his glass from the winebox in the fridge, swirls it as he glances at the clock. It’s only been a minute. 

He turns on the faucet in the sink and washes the dishes he’d left, washes the utensils Harry had dirtied as he warmed up dinner. There’s nothing else in the sink- Harry’s always good about keeping things clean and put away, takes his housekeeping duties seriously (more seriously when he’s in a tiny apron on his hands and knees, scrubbing their linoleum till it’s sparkling and Danny will unzip his jeans, let Harry at his cock). 

Danny checks the refrigerator and carefully picks out the nicest from the carton of strawberries Harry had picked out at the store the day before. He washes them gently and pats them dry, puts them on a saucer. Harry loves any kind of fruit, really, but he’s partial to berries, and even in winter with the import prices rocketed, Danny can’t refuse him a treat now and then. 

Glancing back at the clock, Danny checks his phone for any last second messages to take care of. There’s a string of texts from Ant, but according to the attached photo, he’s out with Louis, who Danny feels can mostly be trusted. In general, if not specifically with younger brother’s virtues. Danny snorts, because it’s not like he can really even pretend Ant has any virtue left. 

By now he knows Harry is probably squirming with impatience, and while Danny likes making him wait, there’s a fine line before it becomes anxiety, and Danny hates for him to worry. He collects the wine glass and the saucer of strawberries and makes his way to their bedroom.

Harry is sitting at the foot of the bed, perched on the edge kicking his heels and fidgeting. He looks up from his lap when Danny comes in and Danny nods, approvingly, causing a blush and making Harry frown back down at the obvious bulge his prick makes in the sheer fabric of his panties. 

“Hey little love,” Danny says, setting down the plate of berries and the wine glass on the chest and stepping in close, spreading his legs so Harry can keep his together, soft thighs quivering between Danny’s knees. He tips Harry’s chin up with his fingers and searches his face. “What’s the matter?”

“D‘s’nt look as nice,” Harry whispers, plucks at the fabric clinging to his hip. “All stretched.”

“Oh, princess.” Danny tries to keep his smile in check, leaning further to kiss Harry’s hot cheek. “I like you like this, it’s okay that it’s- a little stretched.” Harry makes a contrary, snuffled sound, and Danny shakes his head, brings a hand down to palm Harry’s crotch. “None of that. Y’look pretty, an’ I like seeing y’prick all stiff and fat for me, yeah? Like it when you get y’panties all messy with how wet you are.” He rubs two fingers over the head of Harry’s cock through the satin material, and Harry whines, reaches up for him. 

“So wet,” he breathes, “Get so wet for you, Danny.”

Danny nods, lets his smile grow wider as he looks down at Harry. “Yeah, baby. God, lemme see your chest, princess.”

Harry inhales sharply and smiles up at him, apparently pacified, thrusts his shoulders back and presses his chest forward. 

It’s a little ridiculous, the flimsy strings of the lingerie slipping on Harry’s broad shoulders, the lace stretching a little under his arms, but it never ceases to be the hottest thing Danny’s ever seen, Harry desperate to please and trying so hard to look _pretty_ for him. He brings both hands to rest on Harry’s abs, slides them up gently and cups at his pecs, thumbs rubbing around where he can see Harry’s nipples pebbled up through the fabric. 

“Please,” Harry gasps, trying to lean forward and push his chest out at the same time. 

Danny bumps Harry’s chin with his knuckles, pushing his head back. “Please, what?” 

Harry closes his eyes, and Danny can feel goosebumps rising on his skin through the flimsy material clinging to his chest. “Touch my nipples,” Harry whispers, cheeks flushing dark. Danny likes that; no matter how many times they do this, how many times he demands Harry use his big boy words, Harry always acts like it’s a first. It’s taken them a while to figure out the right balance of embarrassment and assurance, but Danny’s good at it now. 

He squeezes at Harry’s pec with one hand, his other smoothing down Harry’s neck gently, thumb dipping just below his adam’s apple and pressing in minutely. Harry chokes, and Danny knows it’s more from the suggestion than the action itself, but he still moves his fingers, checks, waiting until Harry meets his eyes and nods desperately to move his hands again. He cups Harry’s chest through the sheer fabric and leans further, curling over Harry at the edge of the bed to close his mouth around a nipple, flick his tongue against the satiny material. 

Harry whines, hands coming up to grab at Danny’s shoulders and the nape of his neck, trying to hold him in place. Danny sucks at the nub of his nipple until the fabric is wet, sticking to Harry’s skin and his lips. He doesn’t move back, just slides his mouth across to Harry’s sternum and runs his hands down Harry’s sides, pushing him up the mattress and onto his back, crawling between his legs on the bed. 

Harry arches forward, hips jerking like they always do when Danny shows how strong he is, fingers twisting in the back of Danny’s shirt and the curls at the nape of his neck. “Th’other,” he pleads, “Please, Danny.” 

Danny scrapes his teeth across the curve of Harry’s pec to get to his opposite nipple, catches it between his teeth and tugs gently, not bothering to let it go before licking at it, sucking harder. Harry is squirming in earnest, now, arms tight around Danny’s shoulders, fingernails at his upper back leaving marks through his shirt. 

Danny presses additional kisses to each of Harry’s smaller nipples; he has to work a bit harder to find them through the material of his top, but it’s worth it for Harry’s pleased humming. 

It’s difficult to peel himself away, harder still to convince Harry to let him go, but when Danny reaches back for Harry’s wrists, Harry goes limp, lets Danny lay his arms out above his head, crossed at the wrists. Danny smiles, leans up to kiss the jutting bone that pops out the black ink on Harry’s top wrist. Harry shimmies and leans up to suck a sloppy wet kiss to Danny’s throat. Balanced precariously, still holding Harry’s forearms down, Danny lets him work for a moment, until he can feel the tell-tale throb under his skin.

Harry’s eyes are dark when Danny sits back on his waist, and he’s looking at the mark he’s left proudly. Danny reaches up to touch it, and he can see Harry’s hand almost come up. “Harry,” he warns, and Harry nods, keeps still. 

“Good,” Danny nods, and when he’s sure Harry won’t move, he moves to the mattress beside him, shucks his shirt off easily. He’s going for his fly before he thinks better of it, taps Harry’s shoulder. “Be a love and help, would you Harry?” 

Harry rolls over in an instant, fumbling hands somehow graceful and quick getting Danny’s jeans open, pulling the material down to his knees. Danny leans back on his elbows and lifts his hips, and Harry helps him out of the trousers, shoves them over the edge of the bed and sits back on his heels, obedient and hopeful. 

Danny mirrors his position, and it’s a silly reminder of how Harry still has a good few inches on him, has to tip his head to rest their foreheads together. Danny doesn’t mind it; never has, it’s never gotten in the way of this, never changed the fact that they both know who’s in charge here. And it has nothing to do with size, everything to do with presence. 

Harry shivers under his touch, and Danny pulls him close with a hand at the small of his back, his other bunching the soaked material at his chest, cupping the muscle and rubbing at his nipple. 

It only takes a moment of blind searching, Harry’s mouth sliding across Danny’s stubbled chin, for their mouths to meet. Harry’s kissing him harder now, more desperate, more heated, and Danny doesn’t tell him to stop. Harry will let him know when he’s had enough, and Danny will give him the rest of what he wants, then. 

As predicted, it only takes a few minutes before Harry is whining into their kisses, pressing forward like he’s trying to crawl inside Danny’s skin. Danny holds him tightly and sucks his lower lip between his own as he draws back, hands settling firm at Harry’s hips. “Slow, slow, jaan. My pretty boy,” he murmurs, taking in Harry’s heaving chest and the flush that’s spread down his throat, across his collarbones and down his ribs. 

Harry opens his eyes slowly, blinking like he’s half-asleep. Danny smiles at him, shakes his head a little bit. “Pretty baby,” he says, softly, and Harry melts against him. They sit there a moment, thighs pressed together, Harry’s hair a tangle against Danny’s cheek and throat, face buried in his shoulder. 

“Please,” Harry says, all muffled. “Please touch me.”

“Where?” Danny prompts, feeling Harry’s breathing settle in his arms. 

“I want- I want you to look at me,” Harry says quickly, like he’s thought about it, and Danny wonders how long Harry has been planning tonight. “While we-”

“While we-” Danny prompts, because this is something he’s been working on for a while with Harry. 

Harry turns his head to press his mouth just below Danny’s ear, whisper it like a secret. “While we make love.” 

Danny smiles, cradles the back of Harry’s head in one palm, keeps the other at his lower back, holding him steady. “You wanna ride me, princess? Let me watch you take my prick so pretty, ride me like you’ve practiced?” 

There’s a shudder that races from the base of Harry’s spine, just under Danny’s hand, all the way to his head, jerking slightly, mouth opening against Danny’s throat. He nods, eagerly, and Danny doesn’t have to prompt him to follow it with real words. “Yes, please.”

“So lovely,” Danny grins, and Harry shivers, clings to his shoulders. “C’mon, then, sweetheart, wanna see you get yourself all wet and ready for me, can you do that?”

Harry almost squeaks in delight, and before Danny can even tell him to fetch his lube from the nightstand, Harry’s digging it out from beneath his pillow, cheeks flushing when Danny clicks his tongue, laughs. “Have you been playing, then? Miss me?”

“Uh huh,” Harry nods, spreading himself out in front of Danny to give him a proper show. “I only- I didn’t go too far without you,” he mumbles, eyes on Danny as he slicks two fingers- nails trimmed short and lacquered a pretty, light pink- and presses them inside himself easily. He’s trembling with want, little shivers that make him smile, a bit, in embarrassment.

Danny watches him quietly, not touching. As hard as it is, keeping hands to himself when Harry looks so good, it’s worth seeing the way it winds Harry up. Harry’s pumping his fingers rhythmically, sweat beading up in his fringe and mouth fallen open, and his eyebrows are scrunched up. Danny smiles at him, assuringly, and shimmies out of his pants, palming his cock and watching Harry lean up as if to get a better look, fingers going still in his arse. 

“Like what you see?” Danny laughs a little, holding his prick up against his stomach and rubbing the head back and forth. “You wanna get on your knees and get me wet while you finish up, love?”

Harry lights up, “Yes!” and Danny couldn’t say he’s not impressed at the way he adjusts his position accordingly, somehow, without pulling his fingers out of himself. Danny shuffles closer to Harry on his knees, helps Harry settle so he’s holding himself up on his forearm, and then holds the base of his cock, guides the tip to Harry’s waiting mouth, lips plush and warm. “There y’go,” Danny groans as Harry suckles at the head, eager and messy, looking up at Danny through his lashes. Danny manages to break eye contact to look down the curve of Harry’s spine, the satin of his slip rucked up at mid-back, his delicate knickers pushed aside so he can finger himself. “Put another finger in y’self, baby, yeah?”

Without a hitch, Harry slides a third finger in, hums pleasedly around Danny’s cockhead. Then, he swallows down half of Danny’s dick, inhaling through his nose and hollowing his cheeks, tongue laving at the underside, and Danny almost laughs, slips a hand into Harry’s hair. “So good, princess, feel so good. Are you ready?”

Harry nods, not coming up off his cock, pursing his lips and sucking insistently, like he’s determined to coax precome from Danny’s slit; he does, and his back arches, little bum wriggling like he’s a pleased puppy. 

“Alright,” Danny says, leaning back and resettling his knees so that he can guide his prick from Harry’s mouth, give his cheeks matching damp smacks with the head. “Don’t you want me to fill you up nice, princess? Put your panties back on so you can feel ‘em get all wet after?”

“So wet,” Harry whines, stretches forward to nuzzle at Danny’s thigh. “I want- Dan, lemme,” he frowns, pushing his fingers as far as they’ll go inside himself, like they’re not enough.

Danny moves away from Harry to settle on his back, head on two stacked pillows for a better view. “C’mon, then,” he nods, and Harry’s tugging his panties off and straddling him in a second, fingers haphazardly wiped clean on the sheets and slender, smooth legs framing Danny’s hips. “Go slow,” Danny instructs as Harry wraps a hand around the base of his prick, gives it a few eager tugs. Lip between his teeth, Harry guides the tip to his hole, lets out a fluttering sigh as he sinks down, smooth and easy but obediently slow.

“Mm,” Danny says, approving, reaching up and steadying Harry with hands on his hips, keeping him from bottoming out just yet. “Work for it, baby. Show me how you want it, yeah?”

“ _Please_ ,” Harry begs- even with Danny holding him, he can’t stop moving his hips, rocks in tight little circles, two thirds of the way on Danny’s cock. His own dick is pressed up to his stomach, trapping the lacy hem of his slip, the flushed head smearing a wet patch on the flimsy satin. “Danny, please.”

“What’s that, love?” Danny grunts, keeping his voice as even as he can with Harry so pretty and so desperate for him. “ _Words_ ,” he stresses.

“Please’s a _word_ ,” Harry says, sounding ruffled and indignant, and Danny can’t help laughing at him a little. Harry brushes the hair out of his eyes and squirms, clenching a little around what he’s taking of Danny’s cock. “Want all of you, please, thanks.”

“There we go,” Danny grins, pulls Harry down until his bum is nestled in Danny’s hips. “Sassy,” Danny mutters, but Harry doesn’t hear it, covered up by his moan.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” Harry whimpers, shaking but keeping still in Danny’s lap, pulling a little at his own fringe before he settles both hands over Danny’s on his hips. 

“Hey, love,” Danny mutters, “hey, you’re good, you’re good. Breathe an’ tell me, take y’time.”

Harry closes his eyes and inhales deeply through his nose, sways his hips a little, and Danny knows he can’t help it, won’t hold it against him. “So full,” he manages, lips curled up at the corner as Danny thumbs at his hips, rubbing his skin through the slip. “Wanted you all- all day.”

Danny closes his eyes, inhales and holds it for a count of five before he lets it go. Harry’s limber and hot-eyed and spit-slick-lipped on top of him, constricting wet pressure around his cock, and Danny’s trained himself as well as he has Harry on how to hold off, make it really, really good. Sometimes, though, it still sneaks up on him. “I wanted you too, princess,” he says, finally, opening his eyes and smiling at Harry.

“Yeah,” Harry nods, and takes it to mean that he can go for it, and Danny can’t really stop him, wouldn’t want to if he could. Harry puts both hands on Danny’s chest and _goes_ for it, bounces on Danny’s cock with more enthusiasm than finesse. Instead of sloppy it’s charming on him, goes perfectly with his half-lidded eyes and pouty mouth. Danny’s left to watch in awe, hands still on Harry’s hips, not guiding but following him, letting Harry show off for him.

“Gorgeous, Haz,” he groans, reaching behind Harry’s back to spread a hand between the dimples above the curve of Harry’s arse, his middle fingertip feeling out Harry’s stretched rim where Danny’s cock is sliding in and out of him. “So wet,” he says, and Harry makes incoherent noises, leans more of his weight on his hands, braced over Danny’s pecs, to fuck himself faster.

Danny can feel arousal coiling up tight and dangerous in his stomach, but he concentrates on Harry, paying attention to the tiny tell-tale signs; the way Harry’s stomach goes taut and his thighs tremble so hard he can barely stay upright, the way he wobbles forward and back, desperate for both contact and the angle that pushes Danny’s cock deep, fills him up. “C’mon, love,” he bites out. “Show me how you like my prick.”

Harry lowers himself with a little hitch of his hips back, brows furrowed in concentration to get the perfect angle. It’s adorable, the way he’s so determined to do it right, to grind down on Danny where he knows it’ll make him lose it, and Danny can’t help jerking his hips up off the bed when Harry slides down, pulling him into it by the hips until Harry keens, fingers curling up against Danny’s skin as he throws his head back, blissed out. “Dan, Dan, _Danny_ ,” he whines, gasping breaths in between, better and prettier than any girl.

“Let’s have you, Haz, c’mon,” Danny grunts, jaw clenched in an effort to hold off his own orgasm just at the sight of Harry falling apart. He sneaks a hand off Harry’s hip to press the heel of it to the underside of Harry’s dick, welcome pressure and the slightest bit of friction between thrusts, and Harry gasps. “Yeah, babe, this what you needed?” Danny smirks, and when their eyes meet Harry knows he’s done for, Danny rubbing two fingertips over the slit of Harry’s prick, spreading slick precome over his cockhead.

Harry makes a soft, hurt sound and curls over on himself, head bowed as he comes, unable to keep Danny’s gaze. Danny can see his mouth gaping, working over nonsense words and silent, gasping noises, through the curls that fall in his face, and he can feel Harry’s body contracting and shifting like an earthquake, clenching even as he bounces himself frenziedly, fucking himself on Danny’s prick to keep himself going, coming long and drawn out, bubbling over Danny’s fingertips until it’s nothing, just his cock twitching helplessly against Danny’s hand. 

“Shh, shh,” Danny calms him, when it’s obvious he can’t go any longer, is sinking sideways towards the mattress, head still down, shoulders collapsed like he’s drunk or asleep. He holds onto Harry’s sides and helps him lift off, settle onto the sheets on his side. “That was so lovely, babe, ” he grins and presses a kiss to Harry’s curls, plastering his chest to Harry’s back. “Gonna fill you up now, yeah?”

“Uh huh,” Harry nods, whining at the back of his throat when Danny slips his cock in again, oversensitive, clutching at the sheets. “Such a beautiful babe,” Danny grunts, fucking Harry at a brisk pace, one hand behind Harry’s knee to hold Harry’s leg up, self-indulgent but trying to keep clear of Harry’s prostate so soon after he’s come. He sets his teeth to Harry’s shoulder, snaps one of the straps of Harry’s slip and then drags his teeth along Harry’s milky skin. “Love you like this, princess.”

Harry moans, and Danny doesn’t need to see his face to know he’s smiling, fingers still pressing into the mattress before him desperately. Danny knows Harry’s too overwhelmed to really talk, hasn’t worked him up to trying to hold a conversation, however inane, so soon after he’s come, but he can make up for it by telling Harry how pretty he is as he gets close, fucking into Harry in short, hard thrusts.

“Gorgeous,” Danny mutters, and it’s the last coherent word he can form before he comes grinding against Harry’s arse, gripping the pale back of his thigh bruisingly hard. Harry mews, content, and grinds back, clenches tentatively around Danny’s cock, teasing, earning him a gritty laugh and a nip at a knob of his spine.

“Shit, Haz,” Danny groans. “Death of me.” 

Harry makes a pleased noise, accepting it as the compliment it is from Danny, recognizes the approval and the pride in the simple words. He likes Danny’s petnames and dirty sentiments, always, but he likes Danny’s incoherent, post-orgasmic mutterings, too. 

Danny runs his mouth over Harry’s shoulder and attaches his lips to the curve of his neck, sinks his teeth against the sweaty, flushed skin there and sucks hard enough to leave an instant mark. “C’n feel how full y’are, right now,” he whispers, after a moment. “You feel it, baby?”

“Wet,” Harry sighs delightedly, wiggling his bum. Danny hisses, gripping him hard, and Harry squeaks an apology, twists his head to try and smack a kiss to Danny’s cheek but can only reach his nose.

“Y’okay,” Danny sighs, much too fond and tired to scold Harry properly. With a hand on Harry’s arsecheek, he pulls his cock out, careful to keep his come inside Harry, and pats around the bed for Harry’s panties. “Let’s get you back in these, yeah? Wanna see how wet they get,” Danny grins, holding the knickers up to Harry, and Harry moans in agreement.

Gliding his hands along Harry’s legs, smooth and a little shaky, Danny tugs the panties up and settles them low on Harry’s hips, up over the little curve of his bum, tucking his spent cock beneath the elastic. “Sit up,” Danny instructs, and Harry gets on his knees, sitting on his heels, swaying dazedly and smiling at Danny.

He’s a sight, the front of his slip still wet in patches and streaked white over his tummy and ribs, one of the straps falling over his shoulder again, his mouth swollen red from kissing and biting and a few bruises along his collarbones, dotted around his tattoos.

“Lemme- turn around, baby,” Danny mutters, swallowing, and Harry does his best, ends up on all fours with his arse presented to Danny, the panties stained where Danny’s come is leaking out of him.

Harry makes a questioning noise, and Danny smooths a hand over his thigh, pale against the pastel mesh and lace of the underwear across his arse. Harry’s a gorgeous sight all over, really. “Yeah,” Danny breathes. “Fuck. Gonna have to take pictures one day.”

Shivering, Harry looks back at Danny through his lashes, nods. “For you,” he mumbles, honey-slow.

“That’s right, yeah,” Danny nods, pats Harry’s bum approvingly. He hums, then, “Sit at the edge of the bed, yeah? Got something f’you,” and gets up, fetches the strawberries he left on the chest earlier. Harry’s absolutely delighted, beams when Danny closes his hands around the saucer, and plucks one up for a taste as Danny picks him up bridal style, easy as anything.

Danny kisses his forehead, brushing the sweaty curls aside with his lips to press his mouth to Harry’s warm skin, pleased Harry likes the gesture, proud he’s making an effort to enjoy it. He’s slow, moving them to the bathroom, careful as he turns sideways to maneuver through the door, already thinking about how he’ll set Harry at the corner of the tub to lean into the wall as he runs a bath.

“They’re so _sweet_ ,” Harry grins up at Danny, mouth even redder with berry juice.

Danny tips his chin to peck Harry’s lips, and cheesy as it is, he shrugs. “Not as sweet as you.”

 


End file.
